


i'll hate going out in the storm

by impossiblepluto



Series: have yourself a fluffy, whumpy christmas [9]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Episode: s02e11 Bullet + Pen, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt/Comfort, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: A missing scene from 2x11 Bullet + Pen, because what are the odds that Mac really walked away unscathed?
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: have yourself a fluffy, whumpy christmas [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552330
Comments: 43
Kudos: 168





	i'll hate going out in the storm

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, you saw Mac leap from cover while bullets were flying, right? And while of course, I was rooting for him, I can't be the only one hoping he didn't walk away totally unscathed, _right?_
> 
> As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read this!

Mac stares, eyes unfocused, out the windshield of Jack’s Corvette. His mind replaying the moments of his arrest and the hours he spent, cold metal cuffs pinching his wrists, securing him to a table in a dingy and equally cold interrogation room. Stark. Desolate. The way his life had felt before, when grief and abandonment had overwhelmed him. 

The fire had been warm, toasty. The hot chocolate warming him from the inside out. Or maybe it was the feeling of being surrounded by friends… by his family. Quiet music, peaceful night, twinkling lights. People who loved him. He’d had a fleeting thought that he’d never been happier. 

The universe has something against Angus MacGyver being happy.

He’d swallowed the disappointed feeling when Matty showed up and said there was a problem. Knowing it was his job to fix those problems. 

Only this was a problem he couldn’t fix. A problem he’d caused. 

The warm flush of contentment replaced by cold dread. Emptiness. 

Numb in ways he hadn't felt in years. 

He couldn’t process what was being said. It’s not the first time someone died because of him, it’s never easy to come to terms with, but when it’s Jack or Riley’s life stacked against a gunrunner or terrorist, the decision is easy. It still squeezes his chest with regret and guilt in the midnight hours, but seeing Riley’s smile in the morning, or hearing Jack’s booming laughter makes it worth it.

But a civilian. An innocent, days before Christmas, wasn’t going home to his family this year. 

And it was his fault. 

He couldn’t break cover. Matty couldn’t sweep in with a Phoenix order to save him. And he didn’t want that. He killed a man. He doesn’t deserve a ‘get out of jail free’ card. He deserves to face the punishment for his actions, but he has to know what happened.

Maybe Phoenix resources can’t save him, but they can help him figure out what went wrong.

He has to know how he failed. 

He thought he’d face murder charges, maybe he could plea bargain his way to manslaughter. Though, he's not sure he'd take the offer if it was presented. Not sure he deserved it. Not when he sentenced two children to grow up without a father, forever tainting their lives with his destruction.

It never occurred to him that the charge would be domestic terrorism.

He fought against that every day. The irony. Murdoc, the Ghost, El Noche would cackle in delight if word reached them.

He knew his team was working on clearing his name.

He also knew Jack had a back up plan.

One that involved him breaking out of prison and the two of them on the run. 

He couldn’t let Jack do that, leave behind his life and his family and become a wanted man on the run, always looking over his shoulder, always worrying that someone might recognize him.

And Mac couldn’t run from a sentence he deserved.

As much as he wanted to. The idea of going to prison sent a spike of terror down his spine. 

He was in Bishop for a week. Undercover, with Jack as back up, but essentially alone. Hours at a time with no one to watch his six, though there were plenty of men hungrily watching his ass.

He shudders violently, and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Hey Mac,” Jack’s voice breaks his spiraling thoughts. Through the windshield he sees his house, lit up and festive. Like he'd never left. Like he hadn't almost lost it, lost everything a few hours ago. Safe. His name cleared. The Phoenix came through with an eleventh hour save. 

The passenger door is open and Jack is leaning inside, his hand cupping Mac’s neck. 

“You okay, kid?”

Mac exhales a long sigh. “Yeah.”

“You sure, your pulse is hammering away there.” 

Mac bites his lip. Of course, Jack would notice, skilled in using the gentle comforting action to assess his partner's health and well-being. 

Shrugging off Jack's hand, Mac stumbles getting out of the car.

Jack catches him. Jack always catches him.

He gasps, eyes slamming shut as Jack’s hand lands against his side, over his hip bone. He feels Jack freeze when his hand brushes against something cold, wet and sticky. 

“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, big guy,” Mac says with a sheepish smile.

Jack closes his eyes for a second. “Damn it, Mac,” he breathes. “Okay, let’s go,” Jack tries to turn him back towards the car.

“What are you doing?” Mac stiffens, resisting Jack’s gentle guidance.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“No, Jack, please.”

“Mac, you were shot! You’re bleeding. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a graze.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, pretty sure. Pretty sure I’m not bleeding out in the front seat of your car, Jack, as I let you drive me home instead of getting help.”

“I thought it had stopped bleeding.”

Jack holds up his hand, wiggling bloodied fingers. “Guess you were wrong about that one, slick.”

“It’s not,” Mac breaks off with a groan, and a wince. “It pulled when I got out of the car. That’s why it started bleeding again. It’s fine.”

“Sure seems fine. That’s why you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Are we going back to the days where I have to ask you point blank if you’ve been shot, stabbed or concussed? Do I have to start looking you over after every mission again? Thought we were past that.”

“I just didn’t want anyone to worry.”

“Awesome. You can tell everyone not to worry after you see the doc.”

“Jack, please. We’re home. Can’t you just look at it?” Mac asks. Seeing that Jack is opening his mouth to argue and rant, he continues. “If you clean it up and decide that I have to go in, I’ll go, I promise, but I don’t want to spend Christmas Eve in an emergency department. I don’t want everyone rushing there and sitting around worrying about me.”

Jack closes his eyes. “If I say you have to go, you’ll go?”

“Promise,” Mac holds up three fingers.

“Don’t mock the scouts,” Jack blows out a frustrated breath. “Fine. I reserve the right to check the bandage at any point to make sure it’s holding and you don’t have the red stuff leaking from your side.”

Mac nods. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Yeah, well, just know I wouldn’t do this for just anybody.”

Mac smiles as Jack’s brusque tone. 

“Let’s get you inside and taken care of before anyone else gets home. Just because I’m an old softy doesn’t mean Bozer or Riley would be as easy to convince. I don’t think the puppy dog eyes are gonna work on Matty or Cage either.” 

Jack hauls him inside, past the glow of Christmas lights in the hall, heading for Mac’s en suite. Jack’s hands are firm against his shoulder and back, guiding, directing, leading him inside to comfort and security. So different than the hands against his back hours ago, dragging him from the house as his family watched in horror, nothing they could do or say. Now Jack keeps up a steady commentary as they move through the house. 

In the bathroom, Jack rummages under the sink for the extensive first aid kid while Mac leans heavily against the vanity, unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling the dark blue fabric loose from the sticky gouge in his side. Blood still leaks, soaking the waistband of his khakis. Mac’s not one to get woozy at the sight of blood, but the exhaustion from the day is catching up with him, and watching blood welling up in the wound, spilling over his skin makes his vision start spotting. He sways and Jack catches his arm, holding him steady as he shucks his pants. He can feel Jack's eyes watching him steadily, and thinks maybe he just lost the right to stay at home, that any second Jack is going to change his mind and haul him in. 

Jack pats the countertop, “hop up there, hoss. My back can’t handle being all hunched over.” His strong hands help Mac hoist himself onto the sink. 

Mac’s long legs dangle over the edge of the vanity, the tips of his toes only touching the floor if he stretches. He leans back against the mirror, watching Jack tear open packages of gauze. When Jack puts pressure against the wound, Mac’s head clunks back with a sharp hiss escaping his lips. Eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“You okay?” Jack asks, one hand coming to rest against the side of Mac’s neck, thumb brushing against Mac’s jaw line. He feels more than sees Mac’s nod. “Wanna bet on what Riley got me for Christmas this year?”

Mac snorts. “I already know.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah, helped her with it.” 

“Dude, as much as I love the snuggie, I really hope it’s not another snuggie.”

Mac shrugs. “But it was nice to have when we went to that Cowboy's game that came with it.”

“Oh, see, I wouldn’t know, the blond kid sitting next to me commandeered the thing cause he was shivering so hard he was rockin’ the whole stadium.”

“I don’t like the cold.”

“Cause you got no meat on your bones. No insulation,” Jack’s fingers ghost over Mac’s ribs. “You’re shivering.”

Mac’s teeth are clenched. “I’m sitting here in my skivvies. It’s not exactly a warm night.”

“You’re not gonna tumble off of there if I leave you for a second?” Jack asks and Mac rolls his eyes. He takes one of Mac’s hands and presses it against the gauze covered wound. “Keep pressure on that.” He instructs as he leaves the bathroom, returning a moment later, draping one blanket around Mac’s shivering, goosebump covered shoulders, and the other across Mac’s trembling legs. 

Jack’s hand covers Mac, pulling back the gauze. “Bleeding’s stopped. I’ll get you cleaned up and into some real clothes.” 

Warm water runs in the sink as Jack begins cleaning away the blood, making sure no debris remains in the wound bed. 

Mac hisses his fingers scrambling for the edge of the counter. His breathing coming in short gasps, as he shimmies away from the stinging pain. 

“You could probably use a stitch or two,” Jack says, disappointment lacing his voice. “It’s not too deep, but it’ll keep it clean and closed.” 

Mac’s voice trembles. “Are you gonna make me go in?”

“They could give you some lidocaine, bud.”

“By the time we drive there, you could be done.”

Worried brown eyes watch him. 

Mac takes a deep breath. “If you say I have to go in, I’ll go. I promised.” 

Jack closes his eyes, resisting the urge to growl in frustration. It’s almost harder to make Mac do something he doesn’t want to do when he’s being compliant. “It’s gonna suck. Like a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mac replies. And he does. It’s not the first time Jack’s stitched him up. 

Jack washes his hands, pulling on a new pair of gloves. “You want to move somewhere else?” 

“Bozer’s going to be home soon. Let’s just get it over with.”

“You sure about this?” Jack asks again, just to be sure. 

Mac nods. 

Carefully, Jack eases the edges of the wound closer to each other, holding them in place with one hand as he picks up the suturing needle. He feels Mac’s muscles twitching under his hand. 

“Here we go,” he warns. The needle pierces flesh and Mac yelps, squeezing his eyes tighter. His abdominal muscles flutter but he doesn’t squirm. 

“You’re doing great,” Jack praises, looping the stitch and pulling it closed. 

The needle sticks Mac again, his shoulders shudder.

“That’s it, kiddo, keep breathing for me.” When Jack looks up and sees tears leaking from Mac’s closed eyes it nearly breaks his resolve.

“Keep going,” Mac says, feeling Jack’s eyes on him. “I’m good.”

“I’m hurting you.”

“It’s gonna hurt either way. It’s better that it’s you. I trust you.” 

Jack makes himself take exaggerated breaths, noting how Mac is copying his breathing pattern. He can feel the tension in the younger man’s shoulders. Taut muscles trembling. 

“Almost done, kid.” He punctures Mac’s skin again.

Mac squeals, leg kicking out. “I’m good. I’m good,” he rasps. “Keep going.” 

Despite the urge to hurry, to finish so Mac isn't hurting any more, Jack forces himself not to rush. He keeps a steady pace, hardening his heart against Mac's infrequent gasps and cries, trying to keep up a steady monologue of distraction.

Jack ties off the last stitch with a sigh of relief. “Finished.”

Mac’s head falls against Jack’s shoulder. His shoulders shuddering, warm puffs against Jack's neck. Blond hair tickling his jaw. Jack reaches up, scratching his fingers through the shaggy hair, as Mac regains his composure. 

“You sure you’re up for a party?” Jack asks, worried eyes studying his partner as he covers the row of black stitches with gauze and tape.

Mac nods. “I’ll take it easy.”

Jack snorts. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Mac says quietly. “I kind of thought I was going to lose everything tonight.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Jack promises.

Mac smiles sadly. “I know, but that was harder to believe when I was sitting handcuffed to the table.”

“I’m kinda surprised you let those litty bitty bracelets keep you there,” Jack pats his shoulder. He helps Mac hop down from the vanity. “Why don’t you lie down for a minute-- just until everybody else shows up,” Jack continues, heading off Mac’s protests. “I’ll tell ‘em you’re just changing your clothes. You want the interrogation room stank off ya.” 

Jack helps Mac settle on the bed, on top of the covers. 

“No alcohol tonight,” he warns. “You’ve already lost enough blood. Don’t need to start thinning out what you do have left.” 

Mac snorts. “It doesn’t actually make your blood thin, just affects the way your platelets stick together and form a clot.”

“Since I'm counting on those clots to help hold your blood inside your body right now, let’s not do anything that’s going to affect it,” Jack says, turning and heading from the room.

“Hey, Jack,” Mac calls out before Jack exits. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, brother,” Jack says, meeting his eye. “Anything.”


End file.
